


Cold White

by stripedlimabean



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Gen, I feel as if this is cryptic, Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stripedlimabean/pseuds/stripedlimabean
Summary: It’s cold and early in the morning.
Kudos: 6





	Cold White

There’s a white closet in the corner of Kiyotaka’s room. The doors slide open to reveal his repository of pristine school uniforms and more. He has a few button-ups that were gifted to him as well. Today is meant to be a simple outing to purchase a few essentials, such as the rice they were beginning to lack. The Ishimaru family ate rice every night, rarely having anything else. He felt lucky to have that opportunity ever since he was little.

The white of the rice matches the white of the closet, and the white of his button-up. He hastily shedded his previous clothing and was about to venture downstairs before he paused. There was a small stain of crimson near his side. It was hardly noticeable, but on a clean white, the stain was a travesty.

Letting out a barely audible sigh, the prefect made his way back to the closet to replace the button-up with a different one. The shirt he had left was a light pink, gifted to him by his parents. It’s pink like the shade of his room’s walls when he wanted to paint over the cleanliness of the white walls. He regrets that decision now.

Kiyotaka pulls the shirt onto himself, and begins the short and almost relaxing task of buttoning a shirt. The buttons are almost smooth, albeit a little rough on some edges where the plastic was severed. They were still plastic buttons. They get the job done.

First button. He buttons from the top down. He’s shivering, wanting to get it over with. Less than pleasant memories enter his mind as always, the kind that when severe, steal the oxygen from his lungs and leave him sobbing and empty on the cold floor tile of the bathroom.

Second button, third button. He didn’t sleep so well last night, tossing and turning. Kiyotaka prided himself on not having much in his past to lament, yet here he was, constantly dwelling. It’s pitiful how the human mind can work in such a masochistic and hedonistic way.

Fourth button. Work has to be done today. Efforts shouldn’t be wasted, like the little morsels of rice that would be wasted by him as a small naïve child. He didn’t have ill intentions. Perhaps he was even helping something or someone in such a way, despite appearances. The rice will rot and feed the soil below.

Fifth. Can he really pass off the blame like that?

By the time the last button was secured and his shirt was straightened out and tucked into his uniform pants, the familiar tune of some guitar drifted to his ears. It’s quiet, barely there. Kiyotaka hears it. He always does. He froze, preparing himself mentally for the day ahead. 

‘Deep breaths,’ he tells himself. 

‘You know how to get through this.’

The pale white mornings of the winter only grow colder in the Ishimaru household.

**Author's Note:**

> I gotta stop projecting. I was doomed to be a Kiyotaka kinnie as soon as I had a doomed grandfather that my parents kinda dislike for his actions.


End file.
